


As We're Ever Gonna Get

by dawniekins18



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, M/M, Protective Dean Winchester, hurt comfort, post 11x17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-08-28 14:09:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8449162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dawniekins18/pseuds/dawniekins18
Summary: This is what he's willing to die for. This time, here and now, this time he has with Sam.





	1. Chapter 1

He forgets. Of course he does, if you fly everyday you eventually forget that you're 30,000 miles in the air. 

Until the plane shakes a little more than usual. Then you're willing to make any deal with God you can. To just make it, and you wonder if you'll ever be able to get on a plane again.

But you do. You've flown so many times. You'll be fine. It was a fluke.

It's hard to imagine hunting monsters would ever have that type of monotony. But it does. Dean forgets the danger. They both do. 

Until the bullet hits Sam in the stomach, and he wonders how he could be so stupid.

Hunters never see their last hunt for what it is. It's not obvious there's no way out until you've gone all the way up shit creek- then you'll notice the paddle's gone.

Sam was gone. He was sure of it. Felt it with his own hand. 

No deals. No angels. No God. No hope. 

But then he wasn't. And Dean wasn't. And they were fine.

"You good over there?" 

Sam's leaning against the door of the car, more asleep than awake. But Dean can't stop himself from checking. 

"Yeah. They gave me the happy drugs. How far out are we?"

"Another hour tops."

"I can make it." His voice is weak, but not pained. He's exhausted. But Sam's alright.

Losing Sam never feels any different. He wonders if it ever could. 

You'd think he'd get used to Sam's death. Deaths. He's seen it so many times.

But every time it's like a knife in his fucking heart. Even the times when Sam jumps right back up, like it never happened.

It happened for Dean. It's like he dies too when Sam's gone. 

Even when he was with Lisa when he promised Sammy he'd try.

It was numbing. Someone else walking in his shoes. He was there, but not in the ways that counted. Not in a way that could make him stay.

"We're home. Wake up, Sammy."

Sam's eyes pop open as they pull up to the bunker. "Ugh. Weird dreams." He mutters as he rubs a hand over his tired face.

"Clowns?" Deans asks with fake sympathy.

"No. Just pain. But not... I can't explain." Sam's out of it. Doesn't notice the poorly timed joke.

"Are you hurting?"

"No. Just a memory, I guess. It doesn't matter. Let's go to bed." Sam opens his door and starts shifting to get out.

"Whoa there Sammy, cool your jets. Let me help you."

“I got it.” Sam groans as he gets upright.

“Stubborn little shit.” Dean mutters as reaches Sam’s side.

“Yeah, yeah.” Sam’s breaths are light and fast, a tell that shows how much the movements are paining him, despite all the medication.

They make their way slowly into the bunker, each step taking twice that time it normally would. 

“You should really eat something.”

“I just want to sleep.” 

“The pain meds will mess you up. I’ll get you some crackers.” He helps Sam ease his way into the bedroom and onto his bed. He immediately lays down, breathing heavily. His eyes slip shut and Dean takes a moment just to stare at his face. He wants to trace all the lines starting to form around Sam’s eyes. 

He wants to do more than that.

But that’s not something they'll ever acknowledge. 

Dean knows Sam has an idea of how he feels. But they don't talk about it.

They never will.

“Just lay down with me.” Sam whispers.

“What?”

“We’re both out of it. Just stay here for awhile.”

Their beds are tiny, but not too small. There’s space for him. 

He almost says no and goes to find those crackers.

But then he remembers Sam on the floor. 

Sam dead.

No warning, just gone in the five minutes he was outside.

He didn’t even try CPR. 

The thought has been stuck inside his head, like an incessant loop.

Sam was dead on the ground, and he was too fucking stupid to even try CPR.

He gently lowers himself next to his brother. The bed’s just large enough that they’re not touching, but Dean can feel the warmth of Sam’s body.

“All in all, not a great hunt for us.” His eyes open to look at Dean, a bit of humor in his expression.

“We’ve definitely done better.”

“We saved her though. And monsters are dead. We’ve done worse too.”

“I guess the bar is pretty low.” 

Something in Sam’s expression softens. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah Sammy, never better.”

“I’m fine, Dean. I’m going to be fine.”

“I know.”

“You seem… off.”

“Well, it was a long five hours thinking you were dead.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah. ‘Oh.’ You were dead. And I didn’t do CPR because I’m a goddamn idiot. And I left you. I fucking left you.”

“You did what you had to, Dean. Who know what would have happened if you did anything differently. We’re both here. Don’t do that thing you do.”

“What thing I do?”

“That thing. Where you act like everything that happens is your fault, and I’m too fragile to ever be out of your sight, but also you don’t deserve to be around me so you’re an ass to me while not letting me leave your side.”

“I don’t do that.”

“Sure you don’t.”

Dean turns on his side to face Sam. “I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t.”

“I did. Today. I lost you.”

“I’m right in front of you.”

Dean reaches out a hand and cups Sam’s face. Pushing his hair behind a ear. If Sam is surprised by the contact, his expression doesn’t show it. He rubs his thumb along Sam’s jaw, feeling the stubble starting to form there.

This is what he's willing to die for. This time, here and now, this time he has with Sam.

And with that thought, he comes to a realization. 

This is it. This as close to happiness as he'll ever be, and he's the only one holding him back.

He's been to heaven. It's nothing compared to being here. With Sam.

He shifts so he's above Sam, looking down at him. 

"I can't do this without you."

"You don't have to, Dean."

And after a second of hesitation, Dean leans down and softly presses his lips to Sam's.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam melts under Dean, leaning into the kiss. All the times Dean has imagined this moment, in moments of weakness, he never allowed the hope that Sam could feel an inkling of what he did.

But Sam isn’t pushing him away.

He isn’t acting like Dean is a monster, which in his mind, he always believed he was.

He pulls back and stares at Sam. His eyes are open and trusting.

Sam is so fucking trusting.

He shouldn’t be. He shouldn’t allow Dean the liberties he’s taken. The contact he maintained between them. Never allowing his little brother to be too far. Never allowing him to go where Dean can’t follow.

He doesn’t even allow his brother the peace of death, not without him.

“That was different.” Sam’s voice has a wry tone, not accusing but curious.

Dean doesn’t respond, but strokes his hand over Sam, feeling him in ways he normally doesn’t allow himself- his hair, his neck, the curve of his earlobe- the contact is soothing, giving him the courage to keep going.

“Well, it’s been a different day.” He mutters, wanting to keep going, keep feeling Sam, but knowing he can’t. Not until Sam…

“We’ve had a lot of different days. Probably too many, what’s changed?” His voice is soft, the exhaustion still obvious, but his eyes are clear. A few pain pills aren’t enough to make Sam drunk or high. Not after all they’ve been through.

“I had an epiphany.”

Sam eyebrows raise in intrigue. “An epiphany?”

“Yes.” Dean says, not offering more. Distracted and tempted by Sam’s tongue, wetting his lips, their faces closer than they’ve in a long time.

“What kind of epiphany?”

“The kind where I realize that this might be it for us. Billy told you she isn’t playing anymore. And… I couldn’t bring you back.” Dean skims over what he did when he thought Sam was dead. No need to open that fucking can of worms.

“It’ll be ok, Dean. You shouldn’t be so scared of losing me that you start something you don’t mean.” Sam shifts, backing away, ducking his head and biting his bottom lip nervously.

“No.” Dean gently pulls Sam closer, stopping his movements and bring their bodies together. His entire body relaxes with the relief of having Sam close, having him here. “Sammy, I have never started anything as serious as me and you. I just realized...this is it. This is my heaven.”

“The bunker?” 

“No. Well, maybe. But this time with you. Us being together is the only thing…” Dean stops, struggling with the words. This shit really isn’t one of his strengths. But Sammy need words, always has. “I’ll never have it better than I have it now. And I want to make the most of it.”

“With me?”

“It wouldn’t be heaven with anybody else.” 

“You’ve never said before…” Sam’s voice is soft. The question being obvious. 

“I never wanted to admit it, even to you. I know… this isn’t normal. You deserve better. But now I can’t make myself care.”

“Because of the epiphany?”

“In part. And because I’m in love with you.”

Sam is silent, but his hand reaches up, feeling Dean’s face. “I don’t…” He pauses, considering his words. “I never thought you’d say that.”

“I didn’t think I would either.”

“I’ve… I’ve known for awhile.” Sam says, still unsure.

“I know.”

“In heaven, I saw… parts of you I hadn’t seen on earth. I could feel how you felt about me. But I also felt the pain of it. How much you hated feeling that way, how you hated me.”

“I’ve never hated you, Sammy.” Dean whispers harshly, not wanting to allow Sam to believe that, not ever.

“It felt like it.”

“I’ve hated myself. I know that. But never you, Sammy...you’re the...the one good thing I’ve had. And I never wanted to lose you.”

Sam stares. He doesn’t say anything, just looks into Dean’s eyes. And then Sam leans forward. His mouth is tentative against his- shy and cautious, he nervously deepens it, moving his body against Dean’s.

He feels overwhelmed. Dean never thought this moment would happen. He didn’t think he’d ever try, or that Sam would ever allow him to have this. That Sam could ever want any part of it.

He pulls back, both him and Sam gasping for air. “We should slow down. You need to sleep. You’re still hurt.”

Sam pulls back, not meeting his eyes. 

“Not because I don’t want to, because, god Sammy, you have no idea how much I want to...how much I want you.”

“Yeah...ok.” Sam’s voice is shy and uncertain.

“I need you want it too, Sam.”

“I do. I can’t...I can’t imagine losing you, Dean. You’re the most important in my life.”

“You can’t lose me. I don’t want you to fear that..I want you to want all the I want.”

“It’s not just that...I don’t want to spend this time we have together...not together either. This has always been something we’ve never talked about. But you’re right. We’ve seen the other side, and this is it. We shouldn’t waste this time we have...the time we have to be happy.”

Dean can’t help but reach out and pull Sam gently next to him again. “If you give me this, Sam. I’m gonna take all of you. I can’t do this causally. I need you to be mine.”

Sam puts his head into his neck and snorts, hiding his flushed face. “How’s that any different from how you’ve always been?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Dean responds while wrapping his other arm around Sam’s body. Feeling the comforting weight of Sam against him, relaxing into him like he belongs there.

“Sure, you haven’t been a possessive jerk for the past ten year, never letting me too far out of your sight.”

“No clue what you mean. I’ve allowed you all the space in the world, bitch.”

Sam laughs weakly, his body going even more lax. Dean can feel him drifting away, the pull of the pain medication is too strong for him to fight for long. 

“I love you too, Dean.” He whispers as he drifts away.

And that’s it. It’s all he’s ever needed, and he plans to enjoy it for as long as he has. The Darkness, the Devil….none of it matters.

All that’s ever mattered is what’s his.

All that’s ever mattered is Sammy.


End file.
